((Chevron, if it's okay with you, I'm going to make Velor blubber a bit.))

Since the man was not responding to Per'dra's taunting, except with wide-eyed fear and silence, the Bard turned to the crowd to decide his fate.

"If this were any other place in Paryer, you'd have recourse through the law," she explained. "You'd sic the Watchmen on me, and I'd be strung up on the gallows before you could say Long live Sazhen'! However, this is the Drunkard's Haven--the last refuge of the people, at least however many are left after your army's 'preventative exterminations'! Are we vermin, diseased mice and rats, to deserve this treatment? Why in the name of V'toryv haven't you gone after the slum lords in the Gold District, who evict us at a moment's notice if we're even one copper short on our rent? They're the true thieves!"

In her fury, Per'dra hadn't noticed that she'd let the name of the Great Wyrm slip. Taking her steel short swords from the hilts at her sides, she interlocked the blades with the swordpoint of Valron, the fool's other inquisitor, to form a triangle. "Your neck is now between three instruments of death, instead of one," she said. "We people shall now hold you in OUR court. If you lie, you die. My first question: Are you affiliated with the filthy Purge or not?!"